Magic School Bus: Sick Day
by marmamook
Summary: The first segment of the last field trip Ms. Frizzle will lead. A darker take on the cartoon, exploring the creepier themes in the TV show.


This is it, he thought. This is how I will die, on a field trip. He looked out the window, at the brown-red fluid that sloshed against the windows of the school bus and his stomach curdled. The bologna sandwich his mother had packed him this morning may have been a bad idea. _It's a fucking third grade field trip._

The rain splattered on the windshield. The wipers were just slightly off rhythm, Arnold noticed, and it unsettled him. His mother sat in the front seat, singing along faintly to the radio. Suddenly remembering something, Arnold dove into his backpack.

"I need you to sign this permission slip," he said, and thrust a paper at his mother. "It's a field trip."  
"God, do you kids spend any time in the classroom?" she said, grabbing at the note and swerving, just slightly, to the right. "Gimme a pen."

He obeyed. She used the center of the steering wheel to scrawl permission. "Here." She shoved the note back at him, her eyes still on the road, though she had a distracted look to her, something about the darting of her eyes. "I just wish she spent less time taking day trips and more time teaching," she said, almost as if apologizing, with a quick glance down at Arnold. "Aren't you bored?"

"No," Arnold said, and turned his face to the passenger window as they slowed to a stop at the light on Main Street. Almost there.

"I packed you a lunch," his mother said, as if to fill the silence that had fallen. "Bologna and cheese. Is that okay?"

And if I say no? Arnold thought, still focused on the rain, irritation now showing as a slight ripple in his brow. "Fine, Mom." His voice was flat.

"And a juice box," she continued, "And a bottled water-"

"That sounds-" he gulped, "great, Mom. Look, there's the bus."

And there it was, that yellow monstrosity, parked right in front of the school. Built like something to withstand weapons, it had chains on the tires and oversized grills. It was a bus designed to go through hell.

"Is she even letting you see the inside of school?" his mother said under her breath, but she gave him a peck on the forehead and a gentle shove out of the car. "Go learn amazing things!" she said.

_Are you going to tell me about the joy of learning?_ Arnold shrugged his backpack on as he passed through the doors of the elementary school. He could skip the visit to his locker, he knew. Ms. Frizzle would not wait for him._ Are you going to tell me that every day is a fucking adventure?_ She had no idea was a fucking adventure school was. Really.

The classroom was bedlam. Someone had let the lizard out, and she scurried from underneath desks and climbed up a dresser. She was animated, and vocal.

"Good morning, class," Ms. Frizzle said, and the room went silent. All eyes turned to her- and to her dress, that weird shape shifting thing that would hint to the day ahead.

She was a gruesome sight. Blood had guttered down the front of her yellow dress and been left to dry. The effect was like that of an impressionist painting, all blotches of color and texture. Small children's fingers hung from hooks in her ears and she wore a belt of- what was it? A delicate, pastel leather. Arnold thought it looked like it would crunch under the pressure of a fingertip.  
Ms. Frizzle stood framed by the door, fists planted on her hips, and her solemn gaze wandered around the room. She planted eyes directly on the face of each student before she spoke.

"Who's ready to get out there and explore?" Her voice had a musical lilt, and the nostrils of her robust Roman nose flared as she sang out.

The fucking. joy. of learning. Arnold felt a lump swell in his throat, and swallowed. Hard.  
"Do you have your permission slips?"

The class erupted into voices as if a spell had been shattered, like slumbering bears awoken by the chatter of birds and now roaring, We are awake! We move and wave our paws and bare our teeth because we are alive! Because animals are ruled by their bodies and children are animals, or they had been animals. With a clamor like the roar of bears, they surged Ms. Frizzle's desk with permissions by the fistful.

Slips were filed, heads were counted, and before the hour was up the children lined up outside the bus while Ms. Frizzle boarded. Firmly planted in the front seat, she waved them in. "Time to take chances," she said, and nodded at Arnold as he climbed onto the bus.

_It's like she can read my mind,_ he thought, and glared at her over his shoulder. _I knew I should have stayed home today._

"Keep it to yourself, Arnold," Ms. Frizzle snapped. Arnold, six rows back, did not hear her. "Make mistakes," she said, with a sidelong glance at Carlos and Dorothy Ann in the front bench, and clucked her tongue. "Get messy!" She locked eyes with Ralphie for a solid ten seconds, and chuckled.

"Uh, Ms. Frizzle?" he said, pulling his shirt down over his distended belly.

"Come on in, Ralphie," she said, her voice placid. "Don't be shy."

"Say, where are we going, anyway?" Ralphie asked, and adjusted his ball cap. He felt nervous, though unsure as to why.

"Ok class!" Ms. Frizzle said, not exactly an answer, with her eyes still stuck on Ralphie. "Let's find our seats and go!"

Arnold shuffled to the back. He plopped himself down next to the window and his backpack next to him, in hopes of avoiding any unnecessary contact. _Just let this day be over with. Let's just get through it. It's just a normal fucking field trip._ The zoo, right? Isn't that where they were going?

He tried to remember what the permission slip said. Surely Frizzle had to tell parents where their children were going. Wouldn't his mother check? He couldn't be sure._ Does she even give a shit?_ He leaned his forehead against the rain-spattered window.

"Seatbelts, everyone," Ms. Frizzle called, and the class obeyed.

"Please let this be a normal field trip," Arnold muttered.

"Are you kidding me?" Wanda said, and crossed her arms over the back of his seat. "With the Friz? You should know better by now." She popped her gum. "Where d'you think we're going?"

"I don't know," Arnold said, and fell back into his blank stare out the window. It was easier, he knew, to block out that which bothers. _Why won't you get the hint?_ He thought of his mother this morning.

Wanda ignored him. "Ms. Frizzle has been hinting about this trip for two weeks. It has to be somewhere totally fucked." She sat back in her seat and rummaged around in her pocket for a moment, then pulled out a small pill bottle. Prescription. The name Brenda Li on the label. She tossed it to Arnold who caught it to his chest. "It's not Xanax," she said, and smirked. "Carlos's dad deals, you know? We found this in the closet in the basement." She leaned forward again and put her mouth close to Arnold's ear. "Ecstasy."

"You're morons," Arnold said, and passed the bottle back over his shoulder.

"And you're welcome to join," Wanda said. "For the fucking field trip of your life." She pulled her hood up over her head and leaned back in the seat, closer to the window, and allowed herself to doze off. Arnold thought he ought to do the same.

Arnold woke as the bus pulled to a halt. The rain had stopped, and a thick fog hung around the bus.  
"Where are we?" Wanda said, her nose pressed against the window, and left a small clear circle in the heavy condensation. "Are we getting out here?"

_Who cares?_ Arnold leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Once he might have been curious, but he learned quickly that knowing would not protect him.

"All right class," Ms. Frizzle trilled, and the doors to the bus swung open. "Everyone out!" The class sat dumbly until she stood and leaped out of the bus, her skirt acting as a strange kind of parachute, billowing out as she floated to the ground.

They filed out of the bus and waited for direction. Ms. Frizzle had parked the bus in an empty lot. Industrial buildings and empty warehouses surrounded them, windows all shattered and roofs caving in.

"Friz?" Phoebe said, a slight quiver in her voice.

"Yes, Phoebe?" Ms. Frizzle said, not seeming to hear the implied question.

Phoebe sighed and turned from her teacher to Arnold. "This never would have happened at my old school."

"Why the hell are you at this school, then?" Keesha said, and sidled up to Arnold. "Any clue what we're doing here?"

"None." Arnold said, his voice expressionless.

Phoebe squinted at Keesha. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Don't be like that," Keesha rolled her eyes. "So sensitive."

"Gather round, kids!" Ms. Frizzle chimed. "I know you all have a lot of questions, and they'll be answered shortly," She jerked around to Ralphie, who stood just behind her. "How are you feeling? You look a little off." And to tell the truth, his color was peaked and he clutched his belly, his face contorted with discomfort. "Too much candy for the bus ride, don't you think?"

Ralphie flushed, dark even under his green pallor. His fingers clenched slightly on his distended stomach. "I didn't bring candy today," he said, his voice timid. "My mom gave me granola. And a banana."

"What good choices for a change," Ms. Frizzle said, and her eyes lingered on that swollen belly for just moments longer than Ralphie would have been comfortable with. "All right, everyone back on the bus."  
A chorus of protest rang out from the students.

"Uh, Ms. Frizzle?" Tim said, an eyebrow cocked at his teacher. "What was even the point of getting out?"

She whipped around from the entrance of the bus and glared at Tim. "Don't you think that fresh air is best for Ralphie?"

And it would have been, if the air around them was anything that could be called fresh. The sky was grey, heavy with smog and clouds and the promise of rain. Tim opened his mouth to point this out, but Ms. Frizzle cut him off.

"Don't you want to find out where we're going, Tim?" Her voice was slow and measured, her face nearly placid but for a slight wrinkle in her brow that kept the kids from answering the question that clearly was less question, more order. To get on the fucking bus.

They filed back on the bus. Ralphie was slow. He shuffled his feet and leaned forward as a wave of nausea overtook him.

"Ralphie?" Ms. Frizzle called.

"Yeah," he said. His tongue swelled in his mouth.

"Why don't you sit for a second? The bus is awfully hot." This, again, was not a question.

"Uh," Ralphie said, more moan than reply. "Okay," and he plopped on the ground with little care to how he landed. It was clear that his condition grew worse faster than anything like indigestion, too much sugar in a little belly.

Ms. Frizzle shut the bus doors. She pressed a series of buttons, flipped levers, turned dials. The children remained silent. Ralphie asked questions. Ralphie doubted. Ralphie was outside the bus. You did not want to be outside the bus.

The scene outside began to swell, to loom above the children. No, the bus began to shrink. Ralphie grew huge. Ralphie began to cry.


End file.
